Three ficlets
I'm a sucker for hurt!Sam. I also happen to like these three ficlets I've written during this year.
tigriswolf, methinks the last one's new for you, too. :)
Title: Wary
Rating: G
Warnings: General Season Two and Three
Every time Sam has a vision, every time his face twists into a grimace, every time it takes him a moment to catch his breath, the ghost of their father hovers in the corner of Dean's eyes.
Every time Sam's eyes darken, every time his anger lashes out, the words echo in Dean's heart.
Every time Sam gets hurt, there's a prayer in the twitch of Dean's muscles.
Not yet.
Title: Ripples
Rating: G
Warnings: General Season Three
He dreams of it sometimes.
Enough for him to think he should have learned the signs, the routine of the dream by now.
It's always the same. One day, in a motel he can't really place, with the sun shining, rain falling, full moon bathing the world, whatever, in-between the fights with the hellspawn that fled through the Gate, Sam gives him this one look, hunched over his laptop, hovering above one of the books, coming out of the bathroom.
It's never anything more. Sam doesn't open his mouth, doesn't say a word, just gives him this look. And yet, he knows what it means. "I've solved it", it says. "I've figured it out", it promises. "I know how we can break that deal."
And then Sam's dead. No warning, nothing. First Sam's there, cross-legged on the bed, towering over the table, leaning against the wall. And then he's dead, meat rotting, the bones dry, the ashes gently falling on to the indistinct carpet.
"I told you...you try to welsh and weasel your way out, Dean-o, Sammy's good as gone."
He's learned to hate that voice. It's silk and velvet and scorpion's sting, slithering its way around him, curling and coiling, wrapping around his heart.
"I wish you a long, long life, love."
And yet, no matter how often he has that dream, he always wakes up in cold sweat and a cry caught in his throat, Sam alive close by.
He doesn't talk about the nightmare, but he makes damn sure to discourage Sam from finding a way out. And Sam never questions, just gives him this look.
Title: Not right in the head
Rating: G
Warnings: General Season Two, AU
"S'op."
"I'm gonna get you out of here, Sam, 'kay? Don't worry."
Sam's not breathing right, the sobs and whimpers like he's hurting all the time, everywhere, sounding all wrong.
There's no blood, not really, but the bruises shine all the brighter.
And Sam's not all present, either, his head too heavy to hold up.
"Sam? Stay with me, bro, alright?" Dean says, cupping his brother's head, turning it to see Sam's eyes. His skin's pale, clammy to touch, eyes skittering all over the place sluggishly.
"What did he do to you?"
It's more rhetorical than anything he really expects Sam to answer.
"D'ugs", Sam utters, lips, tongue barely managing around the letters.
The only reason Dean wishes he hadn't already killed Gordon is that the bastard died way too quickly for all he did.
Right. And now to see if the boys would agree to depraved acts of the blasphemous kind... and see what a couple of other bunnies have to say.
tigriswolf, methinks the last one's new for you, too. :)
Title: Wary
Rating: G
Warnings: General Season Two and Three
Every time Sam has a vision, every time his face twists into a grimace, every time it takes him a moment to catch his breath, the ghost of their father hovers in the corner of Dean's eyes.
Every time Sam's eyes darken, every time his anger lashes out, the words echo in Dean's heart.
Every time Sam gets hurt, there's a prayer in the twitch of Dean's muscles.
Not yet.
Title: Ripples
Rating: G
Warnings: General Season Three
He dreams of it sometimes.
Enough for him to think he should have learned the signs, the routine of the dream by now.
It's always the same. One day, in a motel he can't really place, with the sun shining, rain falling, full moon bathing the world, whatever, in-between the fights with the hellspawn that fled through the Gate, Sam gives him this one look, hunched over his laptop, hovering above one of the books, coming out of the bathroom.
It's never anything more. Sam doesn't open his mouth, doesn't say a word, just gives him this look. And yet, he knows what it means. "I've solved it", it says. "I've figured it out", it promises. "I know how we can break that deal."
And then Sam's dead. No warning, nothing. First Sam's there, cross-legged on the bed, towering over the table, leaning against the wall. And then he's dead, meat rotting, the bones dry, the ashes gently falling on to the indistinct carpet.
"I told you...you try to welsh and weasel your way out, Dean-o, Sammy's good as gone."
He's learned to hate that voice. It's silk and velvet and scorpion's sting, slithering its way around him, curling and coiling, wrapping around his heart.
"I wish you a long, long life, love."
And yet, no matter how often he has that dream, he always wakes up in cold sweat and a cry caught in his throat, Sam alive close by.
He doesn't talk about the nightmare, but he makes damn sure to discourage Sam from finding a way out. And Sam never questions, just gives him this look.
Title: Not right in the head
Rating: G
Warnings: General Season Two, AU
"S'op."
"I'm gonna get you out of here, Sam, 'kay? Don't worry."
Sam's not breathing right, the sobs and whimpers like he's hurting all the time, everywhere, sounding all wrong.
There's no blood, not really, but the bruises shine all the brighter.
And Sam's not all present, either, his head too heavy to hold up.
"Sam? Stay with me, bro, alright?" Dean says, cupping his brother's head, turning it to see Sam's eyes. His skin's pale, clammy to touch, eyes skittering all over the place sluggishly.
"What did he do to you?"
It's more rhetorical than anything he really expects Sam to answer.
"D'ugs", Sam utters, lips, tongue barely managing around the letters.
The only reason Dean wishes he hadn't already killed Gordon is that the bastard died way too quickly for all he did.
Right. And now to see if the boys would agree to depraved acts of the blasphemous kind... and see what a couple of other bunnies have to say.